Double Bag My Heart
by eyeo22
Summary: Dean works in a grocery store, and Castiel is the only customer that Dean doesn't outright despise. That's a good start, right?
1. Chapter 1

_Crash. Thump._ _"_Clean up outside Aisle 9._"_

Dean swallowed his last bite of lunch and let out a tired sigh. _The candy aisle. Of course._ Kids were always trying to climb the display of treats that sat at the end of the aisle. For some goddamn reason the biggest candy bars were on top, and - being the greedy little runts that they are - they go for those, always ending up on the ground, with dozens of chocolate bars scattered across the floor.

He quickly threw away his trash and walked out of the break room, heading towards aisle 9.

Dean loathed his job. The people were rude, snooty, and usually had some pretty nasty B.O. But he desperately needed the money. Putting Sammy through college wasn't cheap, but he'll be damned if money got in the way of Sam living his dreams. He would do this job with a smile on his face for the rest of his life if it meant Sam was happy.

When he arrived at the display, he was a bit shocked to see a grown man sitting flat on his ass instead of a kid. The man had golden blond hair and a mischievous air about him. Blondie stood up and brushed himself off, looking with little care at the chaos around him.

Dean opened his mouth, about to tell the guy off, but was interrupted by a man skidding around the corner.

He was shorter than Dean, but not by much. He had an unruly mop of dark brown hair and – _holy shit_ – the bluest eyes Dean had ever seen. The man wore a white dress shirt and black suit pants, a trench coat folded on his arm.

"Gabriel!" the new arrival shouted, "Is this truly appropriate behavior for a man your age?"

The shorter man – _Gabriel,_ Dean's mind supplied – simply shrugged.

"The Nutt Blaster Bar was on top! What was I suppose to do, ask for a step ladder? Please, Cassie, I have _some _amount of dignity left."

Trench Coat looked unimpressed.

"You're _suppose _to stop eating candy for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. For god's sake, Gabe, you're in dental college!" Sighing, he turned to Dean. "I apologize on the behalf of my brother. Please, allow me to help clean this up."

"No, no. It's not _your _fault." Dean took a moment to glare at Gabriel,"And besides, my boss wouldn't allow a customer to do any dirty work."

The man nodded in understanding. "Then let us get out of your hair immediately. Again, I'm sorry for the trouble." He turned and frowned at his brother. "Come along, Gabriel." With one last nod at Dean, he grabbed his brother's elbow and dragged him out of the store.

"But, but...my Nutt Blaster!" Dean heard Gabriel cry in the distance.

With weary look towards the mess on the floor, he started fixing the display.

Throughout the rest of the day, Dean had not idea why he couldn't get ocean blue eyes out of his mind.


	2. Chapter 2

It's 1 o'clock in the morning on a Friday and Dean just wants to_ go home_ already. He's had to deal with stoners, druggies, and alcoholics already tonight and he is just plain _done. _The only thing that is good about this night is that, so far, no one has puked on the floor. Small blessings.

_2 more hours_. 2 more hours on the register and then he can go home, fall face first on his bed, and go into a coma for a day or so. He can do this. He is a grown man goddammit, he will _not _break down and fall asleep at the check-out counter. _Again_, his mind reminds him. Oops.

It gets slow after 1:30 or so. Just the odd few road trippers looking for something to keep them from falling asleep at the wheel, and one lady who buys only a cucumber. He runs her item through with the straightest face he can muster, trying not to burst out laughing in her face. Something tells him that his boss wouldn't appreciate that.

He's dead tired, probably looks like shit, and is humming Metallica trying to keep himself awake when 2:00am rolls around and _He _shows up.

It's Trench Coat from the other day, now wearing said coat and what appeared to be a plain white t-shirt and pajama bottoms underneath. His unruly hair from before is now all-out sex hair, his eyes glazed. He looks weary and exhausted, but _damn _if he still doesn't look adora– _No, wait._ _What the hell? Where did that come from, Winchester?_ Dean blamed his tiredness for that thought, and tried to shake it from his mind.

Sex Hair approaches the register while scrubbing a hand down his face. He gives a polite smile towards Dean, apparently remembering him from the other day.

"Hello, -" he squints and tilts his head to look at the name tag pinned to Dean's shirt, "Dean. I hope Gabriel's fumble with the display didn't cause you too much distress?"

"Hmm? Oh, nah. I have to pick up that display about once every other day. It's no big deal."

The other man nods and places his purchases on the conveyor belt. Dean can't help but notice the only thing he bought are some sleeping pills, milk, and bread.

"So, uh, sleeping troubles?" Dean asks, trying to make coherent conversation with not enough sleep. It's only _after _the words are out of his mouth that he realizes it's really none of his business.

Luckily the guy isn't upset that he asked and explains,

"Unfortunately, yes. My new job is taking a bigger toll on me than I expected."

"New job, eh? What do you do?"

"I'm a nurse at the Wesley Medical Center. I have not quite adjusted to my new hours yet, and some of the patients can be quite...taxing."

Dean nods and tries to think of something to add, but he doesn't know dick about nursing. So instead he finishes ringing Sex Hair through in a bit of an awkward silence and tells him his total with a yawn.

Dean mumbles an apology for yawningdirectly in the poor guy's face and then asks, "By the way, I didn't catch your name?"

"Castiel."

Dean's face contorts in confusion, "Uh, gesundheit?"

The man chuckles and continues, "No no,that's my name. Castiel Novak."

"Oh" Dean blushes and ducks his head to look down at his feet. _Smooth, Dean. Real smooth._ He raises his eyes back up to ask, "That's quite an, uh, interesting name. Religious?"

The corners of Castiel's mouth quirk upward into what could possibly be called a smile at Dean's obvious embarrassment.

"Indeed. I believe _Cassiel _was the angel of Thursday. My parents weren't so cruel as to call me that, so they changed it to Castiel. They were quite devout in their faith, so my siblings and I are all named after angels." , he told Dean.

"'Must of had a tough time growing up, huh? I mean, with the super-christian parents and all?"

Castiel hands Dean his money and nods."I suppose so. But I only had to put up with it for 14 years. That's when we got into a fight heated enough that they kicked me out."

Dean's eyes flared with anger at hearing this. "Holy crap, dude. You were fourteen and they just kicked you out onto the streets? That shit isn't right.", Dean fumed.

Cas looked taken aback by Dean's sudden passionate fury, and honestly, Dean was too. What was it with this guy that Dean cared so much about? He wouldn't have been this angry if any other random schmo told him this story.

"Mmm. Luckily Gabriel was old enough to have already moved out, and he kindly invited me to stay with him." Castiel explained.

"Wait, so Gabe is your _older _brother? He sure doesn't act like it."

Castiel gives a slight smile at the thought of his brother, unfocused eyes looking slightly down.

"Yes, he can be quite excitable. The only time I have ever seen him serious was when he had heard about my homelessness. He is the only one of my siblings I am still in contact with."

Dean thinks of how he is with Sam and finds that he is smiling, too. He can totally relate to the protective older brother roll. His respect for Gabriel goes up a bit. Not by much, but still.

Cas looks him in the eye then, and they just sort of do this weird staring/smiling contest for a few moments before a lady behind Castiel clears her throat, obviously annoyed with them.

They both snap out of their trance at the sound, and Dean ducks his head once more.

"I- I should be going.", Cas stammered. "I hope to see you around soon, Dean."

With that, he picked up his plastic bag and left.

Dean was surprised to feel a slight aching in his chest as he watched the man leave.

After what felt like a century rather than an hour, Dean locked the register, waved goodbye at the cleaning crew, and left the store.

Out in the mostly empty parking lot stood his pride and joy, his baby. Dean could always rely on her to be there for him. The beautiful 67 Impala was the shining star in the dark sky that was his life. He loved his car more than he loved Sammy. Well, _maybe_ that was an overstatement. Nothing could take place over Sam. But don't tell him that, that is _way_ too much of a chick flick moment for them to have.

He walked over to his car, got in, and turned the key. The engine roared, the speakers blared with the sweet sounds of AC/DC, and Dean smiled. He pulled out of the parking lot and sped down the street towards his apartment.

When he arrived at the apartment complex, he let out a sigh of relief. It was finally the weekend and he had until Monday morning to relax and do whatever he wanted. Sure, he was probably going to just drink beer and watch bad day time TV, but what was better than that?

_Maybe having someone to spend the weekend with_?Dean thought sadly.

Usually he would hang out with Sam, but now that Sam was in college,he was always studying, weekend or not. And seriously, that kid needs to loosen up a bit. The stress was going to catch up with him sooner or later, and _that_ was not going to be pretty.

Other than Sammy, the only person he ever hung out with was Jo, and she moved to Nebraska last spring to be with her family after her dad got into a bad car accident that put him in the hospital. He healed up fine, but she couldn't bear to leave them, so she stayed.

Actually, wow, now that he thought about it, two friends (one who happens to be your brother) is more than a _little_ sad. He should branch out more, meet new people, live an apple pie life with BBQs and watching football with the guys.

_Nah._

Dean approached his apartment door, unlocked it and went inside.

His apartment wasn't anything special, just the cheapest he could afford while also paying for Sam's student loans. The living room consisted of a small – but still surprisingly comfy – couch, TV, stained coffee table, and a puke-green colored lounging chair.

The kitchen only had a fridge, microwave, and a barely working oven (that didn't matter much. He lived off frozen dinners anyway). Since there was no table, he usually ate at the couch.

He toes his shoes off and pops his back before heading down the narrow hall to his bedroom. The full sized bed itself wasn't that bad, if a bit stiff, but he's had worse. He use to sleep in the Impala, so it was definitely an upgrade from that.

He strips down to his boxers and flops on his bed. He punches the pillow with his face a few times to get it the right shape, too tired to lift his arms, and with one final yawn the darkness behind his eyelids overtakes him.


End file.
